


Sitting Under Bleachers and Smoking and Fucking Each Other With Your Tongues

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Bisexual John, Boys Kissing, Consensual Underage Sex, John finding out he's bisexual, M/M, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2782190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of John Watson finding out he's bisexual and all the little bumps in the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Homosexual Lifestyle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



When John was eleven his best friend was a boy name Kieran. Kieran was a year ahead of him in school and always seemed to know what he was talking about. John followed him like a puppy. 

They were at the University during a full moon, up on the roof looking through a high powered microscope when John held Kieran's hand for the first time. It was cool in his and slightly bigger, but cor, did it feel nice. Kieran's father shouted at them later that night on the ride home, something about boys not holding other boys hands. He never saw Kieran again. 

There were girls after Kieran. Plenty of girls. Girls of all types and John had convinced himself that if he filled his life up with girls there would be no room for boys like Kieran. 

He was wrong. 

_____

Charlie. Charlie was a real bastard. Charlie got John in more trouble than anyone would have expected when the boys became friends. 

Charlie was a wildcard, tried going by the name 'Darkness' when they were fifteen. It stuck for maybe a week or two, but then it was laughed off by an older boy and forgotten as quickly as it had been created. Charlie wanted to be darkness. 

"Everyone's a bloody idiot, John, remember that!" Charlie said after school one day. 

John nodded like he agreed and followed the ginger boy behind the bleachers. They sat close to each other on the rough ground and Charlie took out his lighter and cigarettes. 

John had never smoked before, even when he was with the self proclaimed daredevil, and when the burning stick was passed to him he almost didn't take it. 

"My mum says these will kill you." John said. 

"Everyone's gonna die, Johnny. Even your mum." Charlie replied. 

John elbowed him and drew a small puff from the cigarette. He held it in his mouth for a moment before letting it out and his companion seemed satisfied. 

"You've got to live a little, Johnny." the taller boy said with a grin. 

"I live plenty!" John said back. 

And he did. He made sure that he not only lived more than a little but that everyone saw him living. He was small and flaxen haired and had a sweet smile so he had to be as bold as he could be to get noticed. 

He was a scout. He was on the football team. He had a girlfriend and she was pretty. He had everything set out. 

"Have you kissed Laura yet?" Charlie asked, leaning back against a metal pole and taking a long drag. 

John puffed out his chest defensively. "Yeah!" 

"With tongue?" Charlie asked with a goofy smile. 

"Yeah! And it was good!" John replied quickly. 

"How do you know? How do you know it was good?" Charlie asked with the look of someone who knew for a fact where the conversation was going. 

"She liked it!" John said. 

"Maybe she was lying." Charlie prodded. 

"But...why would she lie?" John asked, voice suddenly quiet. 

"Maybe she wants to let you down gently." Charlie replied. "I could tell you." 

"What?" John asked, head swimming with the idea that his girlfriend was going to break up with him and stomach churning with the adrenalin to make him believe it. 

"I could tell you if you're good or not. How did you do it?" Charlie asked. 

"I don't know, I put my tongue in her mouth." John said nervously. 

"That's it? Christ, Johnny, no wonder she's gonna leave you." Charlie said with a small laugh. 

"Shut up!" John shouted. 

"Okay, okay. Let me show you what to do." Charlie said as he dropped the cigarette butt in his pop bottle. 

John froze and his eyes grew wide. 

"Jesus, don't have a panic attack! It's just a kiss!" Charlie teased as he knelt towards John. 

John swallowed hard and closed his eyes when Charlie's lips pressed to his briefly. 

"Do this next time." the taller boy whispered, hot breath moving across John's lips. 

He dipped his tongue just inside John's mouth and ran it across the inside of his lower lip. John couldn't help the needy sound he made and felt his face flush. Charlie chuckled and gripped the back of his head. 

He tasted of cigarettes and lemon and John sighed loudly when he sucked on his tongue and nipped at his bottom lip. It was really much better than it had any right to be and John was starting to wonder if this was the Homosexual Lifestyle his mother had warned him against. Sitting under bleachers and smoking and fucking each other with your tongues. 

Charlie sat back after a while and grinned as John cleared his throat and looked away. 

"Do that and she'll stay with you." Charlie said. 

John had quite a few questions to ask, like why Charlie knew so much about kissing when he'd never had a girlfriend and whether he could teach him about other things. Mostly his brain was spinning in circles and reminding him that he wasn't gay. Not gay. Not gay. Have a girlfriend. Not gay. 

_____

A week later John was over at Charlie's house on a Friday night and his parents were out at a movie and they were under the covers and it was so hot John thought he might explode. He was panting and Charlie was twisting one of his nipples and talking to him and it was all foggy in his brain. 

"You should suck on her nipples. Girls like that." Charlie said. "It's good. Want to feel?" 

John nodded and Charlie leaned down to suck a very interested nipple between his lips. John moaned and thrust his hips and Charlie laughed, a unique sensation with his lips still on John's skin. 

"You should try it on me. So you don't accidentally hurt her." Charlie said, leaning back and pulling his shirt over his head. 

"O-o-okay." John stammered, licking tentatively. 

Charlie keened and John grew bold, running his hands up the taller boy's sides and sucking roughly. 

"Like that! Oh!" Charlie shouted. 

John continued to suck as he tweaked the other nipple then gripped his friend's waist. 

"Kiss me." Charlie breathed loudly. 

John moved up his body quickly and licked into his mouth, holding the back of his head and rutting against him. Charlie reached up and squeezed his arse and John thrust his hips faster. Their mouths were wet and the kiss grew sloppy as both tried to stop for air at different times. It was only a few minutes before the were both coming in their pants in Charlie's bed and breaking apart with a gasp. 

They lay there panting with their eyes on the ceiling for a moment before Charlie spoke. 

"I'm moving." he said. 

John looked over, wishing he could come up with a more convincing reason that the statement would break his heart than 'you're my best friend'. 

"When?" John asked. 

"End of the school year." Charlie replied. 

"That's two weeks!" John shouted. 

Charlie turned away from him and they both lay quietly for a long time before John got up and cleaned the come out of his soiled pants. They never spoke of it. 

_____

The next year John was captain of the football team and was in charge of helping a new boy, Sam, find his way around campus. Sam was funny. Sam was funny and quiet and smart and really good on the pitch. Sam was all those things and John was smitten. 

"And this is the locker room. The showers are down there and you'll have your own locker once the coach gives you one. Practice is after school Monday, Wednesday and Friday and six am every Saturday." John said, looking over Sam's papers. 

"And matches?" Sam asked. 

"Oh, yeah, I'll get you a schedule. Looks like we have maths together." John said absently. 

Sam smiled and followed John out of the room. 

_____

John and Sam's first game together was horrible. Marcus pulled a muscle and the other team took advantage and the whole thing went to hell. Their coach never yelled but you could tell that he was getting mighty close. John stayed on the pitch talking to him for twenty minutes after the game and by the time he made it back to the changing rooms all of the lads were gone. All but Sam. 

"It wasn't your fault." Sam said as John walked in. 

"I really don't want to talk right now." John replied, pulling his kit off and walking towards the showers. 

"It wasn't your fault." Sam repeated, following him. 

"I said I don't want to talk. Just leave me alone." John replied as he walked faster, only then realising his own leg was hurting pretty bad. 

Sam stepped in front of him and looked him in the eye. John clenched his jaw and scowled. 

"It wasn't your-" Sam began. 

John threw a punch meant for Sam's right eye and the boy deflected it and pulled him into an uncomfortable hug. 

"It wasn't your fault." Sam said again. 

John took one heaving breath and sobbed loudly as Sam ran a hand through his short cropped hair. He cried so hard his throat hurt and by the time he stopped they were sitting on the floor huddled together. 

"I'm sorry I tried to hit you." John whispered roughly. 

Sam sat back and brushed his fringe from his brow. There was a long moment where they simply looked into each other's eyes before John surged forward and knocked Sam onto his back, licking into his mouth and growling on top of him. Sam pushed his pants down and wrapped his left leg around John's hip to bring them closer together. 

"Oh, God." John moaned as Sam shivered into the contact. 

"John. Please." Sam whimpered. 

John twisted Sam's right nipple and thrust his hips and sucked at his neck and within the next few minutes both boys were close. Sam's eyes clenched closed and his head fell back and John got his hand around their cocks in just enough time to feel the other boy's twitch and begin to spill semen between them. 

"I'm coming." Sam squeaked. 

John chuckled and thrust into his hand and slipped willingly over the edge into his own orgasm. When he finally stopped shaking he rolled onto his side and gripped Sam's hand. 

"I'm not gay." Sam said after a few long moments. 

"Me neither." John replied, ignoring the twist in his stomach. 

"That was kinda gay." Sam replied. 

John turned to Sam and started to giggle. Sam joined in and soon they were tickling each other and writhing on the undeniably germ ridden locker room floor. 

_____

Two weeks later Sam and John were showering after a practice when Marcus called Sam a poof for the way he'd played earlier that day. John turned on Marcus in a second and had the younger boy pinned to the wall. He cut off his air and waited a few seconds while saying some choice words before he let him go. Marcus jogged out of the room and his best friend Hale went with him. 

"You didn't have to do that, John." Sam said as John turned back to look him in the eyes. 

"He was being a prick!" John growled. 

"He was just playing." Sam said weakly. 

"Bullshit. I won't have that kind of shit on my squad. Get clean, we have maths in ten." John said as he rinsed and made to leave. 

Sam nodded and cleaned up well before hurrying to catch up with John by his locker. They stood there side by side not saying a thing while they changed but Sam had his eyes on John and John could feel them. 

They hadn't talked about what had happened after their first match together, neither sure if it was something the other would be interested in again, and now it felt like all those questions were filling John's head to bursting. He looked around to make sure they were alone before he spoke in a hushed voice. 

"There's nothing wrong with being gay...there's nothing wrong with what we did. I don't want Marcus or anyone else using it as an insult." he said. 

Sam bit his lip and looked at the floor. John reached out and took his hand. It felt like fireworks were going off in his abdomen. 

"I'm not gay." Sam said. 

"I don't care." John replied, moving closer. 

"I've liked plenty of girls." Sam reiterated. 

"I want to kiss you again." John said, brushing his thumb across Sam's wrist. 

Sam closed his eyes and nodded and John took the last step and pressed their lips together. Sam whimpered and John sucked on his bottom lip. By the time they stopped kissing both were hard and panting. 

"We're gonna be late for maths." Sam said with a dazed look. 

"I want to suck you." John replied. 

"Jesus." Sam murmured. 

"Tell me I can." John said confidently as he saw a flush move up Sam's neck. 

"John." Sam whispered. 

"Tell me." John replied. 

Sam took a shuddering breath and his voice cracked when he spoke. "Please." 

John tore at his trousers and had them and his pants around his ankles before he even thought to go lock the door. When he got back Sam was clutching his locker and holding his other hand over his cock. John rushed forward and kissed him sloppily until he dropped his hand and relaxed a bit. 

"Ha-have you ever?" Sam asked as they broke apart. 

"Yeah." John lied. 

Sam nodded and John dropped to his knees to imitate everything he'd seen done in his favorite porno. The first thing he learned was that he really needed to produce more saliva or get some lube. He licked everywhere and was happy to see Sam didn't notice any problems. 

Well, happy wasn't really it because at that point he wasn't thinking at all and was just exploring. When he sucked the head into his mouth Sam gave a strangled cry and started to come. It was so fast that John didn't have time to think about whether he should swallow and only just managed to get his face out of the way. 

He unbuttoned his own trousers and pulled himself out of his pants while Sam got his breath back. He was only able to stroke himself a few times before he was coming as well. 

"You're amazing." Sam said as John cleaned them up and helped him back into his trousers. 

"You're amazing." he replied with a grin. 

Sam shook his head and followed him out into the empty hallway. 

_____

"Will you come over this weekend? Mom said you could spend the night." Sam said as they walked home from school later that week. 

"Yeah. What day?" John asked. 

"Saturday. After practice. You can bring your stuff to practice and my dad will pick us up." Sam said. 

"Okay. Yeah, it'll be fun." John said, taking advantage of the abandoned lot they were in to take hold of Sam's hand and twine their fingers together. 

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" Sam asked after a few seconds. 

"You know why." John replied, refusing to look up. 

The whole world seemed to shrink down to that empty lot and their hands held together. He didn't want to say anything in case what he felt wasn't returned. 

"Tell me, John. Please." Sam said.

"I don't like any of the girls we know." John deflected. 

"Do you have sex with other boys?" Sam asked quite suddenly. 

"No! Jesus! Do you?" John asked, spinning to look at his friend. 

Sam blushed and stammered. "N-no." 

"So it's just me, then." John said. 

Sam nodded and looked away. John stopped right in front of him and let his hand go to place both hands on his shoulders. 

"It's just you. It's just you, too." he said, hoping that would be enough. 

Sam smiled gently and nodded again and they went on their way.


	2. Buildup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter coming up. Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Olive oil should work as lubricant, John assumed. It's slippery and all. He had the bottle in his book bag with the condoms he swiped from his dad's sock drawer. He pointedly DIDN'T think about his parents having sex. 

He slung his practice bag over his shoulder and walked to the bus stop. He was buzzing with energy, could feel the adrenalin in his veins. He hadn't asked Sam if he wanted to have sex that night, it just seemed like the natural progression of things. He'd never even had sex before. 

He wondered absently if he should pretend like he had. Would that make Sam feel more safe, to be with someone with experience? He decided against it, figuring he'd be clumsy enough for Sam to see the lie. He liked Sam, liked him a lot, and didn't want to lie to him. 

Jesus, he knew he was over thinking it. He'd spent the whole bus ride to the school thinking about the curve of Sam's lower back, the strength of his thighs. There were things he wanted to do that he wasn't sure were okay, places he wanted to put his tongue and mouth. Christ, Sam's arse was perfect. All that running up and down the pitch had him tight and fit. 

"Are you with us, Johnny boy?" coach asked with a smile. 

John looked up and cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." 

"No reason to be sorry now, just as long as you get your head in the game. We've got a long practice today and you're obviously thinking of some girl. Soldier through it, kiddo." coach replied. 

John swallowed hard and nodded, not looking to the pitch behind him for fear Sam was already there and suited up and his feelings would be obvious. 

He jogged to the locker room and unpacked his bag, tossing his book bag in his locker and slipping out of his street clothes. Sam sidled up beside him and John could feel his warmth. 

"Hey, captain." He said with a secretive smile. "Ready for practice?" 

John slipped his jersey on and turned to face Sam. He was eyeing him carefully, lips quirked up slightly on both sides. 

"Dreamed of you last night." John said. 

Sam looked around and pinched his shoulder. 

"Ouch!" John yelped. 

"See you on the pitch." Sam said with a laugh. 

John took a deep breath and got into his shorts. Sam. Sam was going to kill him. 

_____

That night Sam's parents made them pizza and headed out. They sat on the couch watching a movie as they left but once the door closed behind them they were on top of each other, pulling at clothes and hair and dipping their tongues into each other's mouths. 

"I want you." John growled. 

"You have me." Sam replied, wrapping his legs around John's waist. 

John picked him up and carried him to his bed. They were down to pants in seconds flat and John climbed atop Sam to pin him to the bed. 

"I need you." John said desperately. 

"Fuck me." Sam replied. 

John pressed his face to Sam's shoulder and tried to breathe. 

"Please." Sam whispered. 

John nodded and went to get his bag. He took out the bottle of olive oil and Sam snickered. 

"You gonna use that on me?" he asked. 

"Mmm." John hummed as he got back onto the bed and pulled Sam's legs over his shoulders. 

_____

John went slow and Sam adjusted quickly. They spent themselves after only a few minutes and lay in a damp pile afterwards, whispering to each other and kissing softly. 

"You feel good." Sam whispered. 

"You felt better." John replied. 

Sam pulled John closer by his hair and licked his bottom lip. John sighed happily and melted into the kiss. 

They got up fifteen minutes later and got into the shower. Sam lay against the tile as John cleaned his back and sides. 

"I love you." Sam murmured. 

John's hand stilled and Sam stuttered. 

"I m-m-meant I love this. I love this."

John kissed his shoulder and held him against his chest. 

"I love you too." he whispered. 

_____

It had been a whole year and a half since Sam and him had first kissed and people were starting to suspect. John had been a bit of a ladies man, well, boy, before Sam came into the picture and everything had come to a grinding halt. 

"I'm gonna ask Julie to pretend to be my girlfriend." John said one night after they'd been called names at the local movie theatre. 

"I hate this!" Sam hissed into his phone. 

"I hate it too. It doesn't mean anything will change." John assured him. 

"I know." Sam replied sadly. 

_____

The three of them were at the late night showing of the newest action movie. The lights went down and John let go of Julie's hand and took Sam's. Sam squeezed it and settled back into his seat. 

_____

It happened slowly. So slowly that John didn't even see it happening. It started with late nights at Julie's house, doing homework and playing the part. It started with holding hands in the hall and her coming to their matches. 

When it finally fell apart was during their last match of the season. They won and Julie ran onto the pitch. John caught her in his arms and their kiss was something different altogether. There was heat and affection and John put her down quickly and turned to look at Sam. 

"I hate you!" Sam shouted. 

John looked back at Julie and then ran after Sam into the locker rooms. 

"Sam!" he yelled as he followed him into the showers. 

Sam didn't reply, shucking his kit and turning the shower on without waiting for it to get hot. He shivered under the spray and John stood watching him, sure he was crying but unable to speak a single word. 

_____

When John went away to uni he broke up with Julie. They'd been growing apart anyways, what with trying to transition from fake dating to real dating and all. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to be with someone who was still lovesick for his ex. 

_____

It was impossible to keep a girlfriend or boyfriend through med school. He was working almost full time at the library to help pay for it and got a lot less sleep than he knew was good for him. 

There was a great deal of fumbling in closets and sex in his dorm late at night but nothing that even hinted towards long term. He honestly missed the intimacy of being with someone he really cared about but it wouldn't be fair to anyone he dated. He kept his head down. 

_____

His first week in the field was exhausting. If he thought it was bad running on no sleep in a hospital it was ten times worse in a war zone. The sand was new too, he always felt dirty. 

Back at Bart's he had Dr Simons at least. The woman had been an amazing teacher and mentor and John knew that without her guidance he wouldn't have made it. He spent many a night with her in the break room talking about why it was worth it to do what hey did, why it would be worth it to do more. 

Now he was alone. Sure, he had his comrades in arms, but there was no one here that had the time or want to be his mentor. He was his own man now and a doctor in his own right and it felt horribly lonely. 

He had hoped his new commander would like him but it seemed he didn't like anyone. Sholto. He was a strange one. Never smiled, even when it was the end of the day and everyone else was relaxing. He always seemed to be serious. John wondered why. 

_____

The first time he saw a different look pass over Sholto's face was six months in. He'd been injured on a mission but not so badly that it had to be treated just then. John had wrapped his arm tightly and promised to give it more attention when they got back. 

That night, in the dull lamplight of the Major's tent, John had gone to him to clean the wound. The Major was having a drink, something amber colored, and it occurred to John he'd never seen the man imbibe. 

"It doesn't hurt so bad you have to numb the pain, does it?" John asked as he knelt next to the Major's chair and unwound the makeshift bandage. 

"No." Sholto replied in one of his classic one word answers. 

"This'll sting." John said as he started to clean. 

The Major was perfectly still as John drew the cloth over his skin and along the ragged edge of the cut. 

"You were amazing out there today, sir. The men really respect you." John said honestly as he started to sew up the skin. 

"They respect you as well, Watson." Sholto replied, almost knocking John on his arse, not that it would have been a far fall. 

"Thank you, sir." he whispered, not sure what was going on inside his chest at the compliment. 

John stitched quickly and was done in ten minutes flat. He cleared his throat and stood to pack his things. 

"The lads are going to try to steal all my money later. Are you up for some low stakes poker, sir?" John asked nervously as he stood back with his kit. 

The Major's eyebrows knit together for a second as he looked John up and down as if analyzing a threat. Finally, he shook his head. John's stomach sank and he nodded, turning to leave. 

"John." Sholto said just as John was stepping out of the tent. 

"Yes, sir?" John asked, turning like a needy puppy. 

"Thank you." Sholto replied with a slightly pained expression. 

John found himself grinning and tried to clamp down on it. He nodded to the mysterious man and went on his way. 

_____

John found his eyes drifting to Sholto's everytime the man was in the room. On the odd occasion that they met he felt something hot twist and flutter in his gut, felt his cheeks flame.  
_____

It had been a near thing. John shouldn't have gone in after the two men but he couldn't leave them behind. He'd had to escape to his small med room to sew his leg shut immediately upon their return. The blood was impressive. 

"What the hell were you thinking?" the Major growled as he stomped in. 

John finished wrapping the wound and washed his hands in the basin. 

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again." he said with forced calm. 

"Of course it will!" Sholto shouted. "Because you're a bloody martyr!" 

John felt the shame he'd been avoiding hit him square in the chest and he looked at the ground. He honestly didn't know what to say and was worried that if he was asked to explain himself he might break down. He heard the Major take two steps forward and felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up and saw the pain in the man's eyes. 

"Why are you doing this to me?" Sholto asked in rough voice kept low. "You can't put yourself in danger like that." 

That came as a bit of a shock to his pride and John feet himself stand straighter. 

"With all due respect, sir, we are in a war zone. We are all in danger. I may be your medic but I'm also a soldier and I'd appreciate being treated with-" John began. 

He was cut off by a set of dry lips being pressed desperately to his. He gasped and pulled at the Major's uniform, wrenching him forward and kissing him back. They struggled like that for several long minutes, neither wanting to give up control, until Sholto took a step back. 

"That was-it was unprofessional of me. I apologize. If you'd like to make a formal complaint-" the Major began. 

"Stop." John bit out. "On your knees." 

Sholto flinched and knelt quickly without looking John in the eyes. John walked to the door and looked out for a second before closing it and bolting it behind him. He drew in a deep breath and walked to place a hand on the Major's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry I frightened you today." he whispered, walking then to the cot in the corner and undoing his belt. 

Sholto remained quiet where he was as John unlaced and removed his boots and socks and slipped out of his bloodstained trousers and shirt. John lay down on the cot and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again he found the Major watching him intensely. 

"Come 'ere." John said gently. 

The Major scrambled to his feet and walked across the room to kneel at John's side once more. John placed a hand on his neck and squeezed once before letting his hand fall. 

"Strip." John murmured. 

The Major stood and divested quickly, folding all of his clothes and standing at attention in just his pants, broad chest heaving. 

"Lay down with me." John said as he moved over in the cot. 

Sholto lay down next to him and John wrapped him in his arms, petting down his side and trying to calm the man. 

"It's okay. I'm right here." he whispered. 

"I'm sorry, John." Sholto replied weakly. 

"Nothin' to be sorry about, love. Relax for me." John replied, running a hand up to the taller man's neck. 

The Major shivered at his touch and John leaned in to kiss him, stopping just short to catch his eye. 

"Is this okay?" he asked. 

"Yes." Sholto breathed roughly. 

John kissed him gently at first, just his lips dragging against the Major's. He felt the older man shake in his arms and deepened the kiss. 

It was an odd feeling, the tingling all over that accompanied having the Major in his arms. He'd wanted him for a very long time, ever since he'd cleaned up the wound on the man's arm the year prior. Maybe he hadn't admitted it to himself but it was probably obvious. 

He licked into Sholto's mouth and felt him moan, a rumbling working through them both, and wrapped his leg around his hip to pull him closer. Their pricks presses together and John rolled his hips. 

"I've wanted you." he whispered. "I've wanted you for so long." 

Sholto whimpered and gripped John's arse with one hand. John gripped the back of his neck and licked deep into his mouth, stroking the Major's tongue with his and making him let out little needy sounds. 

John pulled back and looked him in the eye. "Are you clean? I'd like to have sex with you but I don't have a condom." 

"Yes, and I haven't been with anyone one in...a long time." Sholto replied. 

John kissed him once more before climbing over him and going through the desk for the tube of medical grade lubricant he knew he had. When he found it he walked back over to the cot and removed his vest and pants. Sholto sat up and gripped his naked hips tightly before lowering his head to suck just the tip of his cock between his lips. 

John bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep quiet as he let the Major explore a bit with his tongue. When it became too much he pulled the man back by his hair and kissed him roughly. He went limp in his arms. 

"Get the rest of your kit off." John whispered as he took his space behind the Major again. 

He obeyed and was quickly pressing his naked arse against John's wet cock. John sighed loudly and circled his hips before pulling back to rub a lubricant slicked finger where he intended to bury himself. The Major squirmed and John had to still him with a hand to his shoulder before he could rub small circles around his arsehole. 

"I'm going to open you up slowly, and then I'll take care of you, yeah?" John asked as he slipped just the tip of his finger in. 

The Major nodded frantically and pressed his hips back. 

"Settle. Shhh. We'll go at my speed or not at all." John said, voice commanding but warm. 

By the time he had three fingers pumping in and out of the taller man there wasn't much more time both men could be gone before someone went looking. John pulled his fingers out slowly and covered his cock in slick. He gripped Sholto's hip and kissed his shoulder as he pressed forward. 

The head of his cock slipped in perfectly and they both breathed out deeply. After a few moments John started to move in small thrusts, just a bit at a time until he was fully seated. 

The first real thrust was overwhelming. Sholto was holding his left knee to his chest so John could get in deep and even the pain in his leg couldn't stop John from burying himself over and over again in his tight heat. 

"God. Fuck you feel good. Fuck. This is what you needed, wasn't it? You needed to feel me inside you." John whispered as he picked up speed. 

Sholto nodded and breathed roughly through his nose. 

"You're perfect. So perfect. Oh, you're tight." John whispered as he felt himself getting close. 

He pulled Sholto's leg back down and wrapped a hand around his swollen cock. He was hot and solid and long in John's hand. 

"Please." Sholto whispered. 

"Go on, then." John replied as he thrust faster and felt the man twitch in his fist. 

He closed his eyes and paid attention to the movements of the body around him, blocking out the desert and the sand and the whole bloody war. His prick was being grasped tightly, rhythmically, being milked as he let himself fall over the edge. He buried himself deep and came, pulsing into his companion as the man went limp in his arms again. 

_____

They only had a few nights like that over the next few years, nights where they could talk a bit before and take the time to do things right. Mostly they spent their times together in complete silence as slick fists got them off. They barely even spoke during the days, even a smile would be out of place. 

When John was injured he thought he would at least get a bit of emotion out of the Major. He was wrong. All the time spent grinning at each other in private was pushed aside as Sholto pulled on a mask of formality and broke John's heart. 

"It's been a pleasure having you as our medic, Watson. You'll be missed." the Major said once they were alone. 

"I love you." John replied, eyes already tearing up. 

"All your papers are in your bag." Sholto replied flatly. 

"You're killing me." John gasped as the man took a small step back. 

"The war kills us all in the end, soldier." Sholto said quietly. 

"Did you ever care about me?" John asked, feeling the pull of the pain medication again. 

Sholto took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He looked John in the eye for the first time that day. 

"I'll always love you. It's better off this way." 

John sobbed roughly and closed his eyes. In the end he didn't even notice when the Major left. All he knew was that he woke up alone, surrounded by balloons and flowers and filled with regret. 

_____

When John met Sherlock he wanted to slap him. He was cocky and brilliant and gorgeous and utterly mad. The bastard even winked as he left. 

'Well', John thought, 'here we go again.'


	3. Don't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is a mini chapter. It's half of the final chapter but I wanted to post it now, so I'll change the chapter count. Love you guys.

It took four years, innumerable cases, and an elaborate plan on Sherlock's part to get them their first kiss, as if John had to be talked into it. The case involved Sherlock and John going undercover as a couple; cliche, Sherlock knew. That night started out like many of the rest, with Sherlock sitting on the sofa-back like shoes were meant to go on cushions and John writing in his blog.

"I have a case." Sherlock said at last. "Well, a stakeout. I was thinking about bringing Gavin."

John looked up, shock evident on his face, and shook his head. 

"So...you'd want to take along GREG." he said in an irritated manner, the 'instead of me' hanging blatantly in the air.

"Want is a very strong word. I'd rather bring you, of course, but..." Sherlock trailed off purposefully.

"But what?" John asked in a clipped tone, back going straight at the implication that someone could take his place because of some deficiency of his.

"Well, it's a party." Sherlock replied slowly with a scrunch of his nose.

"So what? I'm good at parties! People bloody love me!" John replied, sitting so far forward in his chair just then that it was a miracle his bum didn't slip from it.

"I need a boyfriend. For the party. I was sure you wouldn't be interested." Sherlock said with a slight nod before going back to looking intently at the far wall.

'You had me at boyfriend', John thought before clearing his throat to speak. "I could, um, do that. Pretend, that is."

Sherlock seemed to take it under consideration before shrugging and hopping up to make himself a cuppa. "If you really want."

He caught John's smug smile on his way and filed it away with the rest.

_____

They were dancing and it was fantastic. Sherlock, it turned out, was quite the accomplished dancer. John had a flash of a thought of what a younger Sherlock would have looked like ballroom dancing and quickly stored it away for later. 'That one', he thought, 'that's a keeper'.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself." Sherlock whispered into John's ear.

"Mmm. Not as bad as I thought it would be." John replied honestly.

"Now's our chance. We'll go into the office and get the files while everyone else is busy. Come, John." Sherlock said as the song ended.

He didn't catch John's frown as he dragged his companion off the floor and down a long hallway. They made it to an area bereft of people and Sherlock pulled his lock pick kit from his tuxedo and started on the door handle while John played lookout. Sherlock opened the door with ease and slipped inside while John stood completely still. 

A few moments later John heard Sherlock moving around and his heart rate picked up, though his tremor stilled. It would be over soon. Sherlock would have the information and they would-oh, crap. Someone was coming down the hall. Bloody hell.

"Sherlock. Sherlock, someone's coming." he hissed through the door.

Said door opened slightly and he was pulled through the John-sized crack and pressed up against the wall. Sherlock placed a hand over his mouth and listened through the door for any movement. There were footsteps approaching and then the door handle turned slowly.

Sherlock looked panicked as he drew his hand from John's lips and replaced it with his mouth. He kissed him roughly, running one hand through John's hair while he pulled at his own shirt tails with the other. John was trying desperately not to moan as Sherlock licked into his mouth with what had to be false desperation. The door opened.

"What in the-" the man who walked through asked.

Sherlock stood back and pretended to right himself as John panted and pressed down his disheveled hair.

"My apologies, Luther." Sherlock said, pulling John a bit closer before walking him out the door.

John was silent the whole way to the cab and then all the way home. He didn't ask a single question or even meet Sherlock's eyes. A ball of anxious rage started to churn in Sherlock's stomach, convincing him that John was so put off by kissing him that he couldn't stand the sight of him. When they got through the front door of their flat John set him right.

"You can't, Jesus, Sherlock, you can't kiss someone like that and not expect them to feel something!" he said, tossing his suit jacket aside and pulling at his bow tie in an agitated manner.

"Garret wouldn't have felt anything." Sherlock replied, not sure exactly what he was trying to prove.

"Yeah, well GREG hasn't been in love with you for bloody years, has he? Fuck this! Fucking fuck my life! Jesus fuck!" John said, stomping into the sitting room and looking around as if he wished to throw something especially fragile.

"You're in love with me." Sherlock stated, voice somewhat breathless.

"Of course I bloody am!" John shot back, spinning and frowning at Sherlock before pausing.

Sherlock pushed his hands into his pockets and looked away like a guilty schoolboy.

"You didn't know." John replied gently. "Christ. You honestly didn't know."

"No, I didn't. It appears I'm more of a fool than even you expected. I'll be in my room." Sherlock shot back with a scowl.

Sherlock took one step before John surged forward and gripped his arm. 

"Stop!" he gasped, "Don't, don't go."

Sherlock stood still but didn't turn to meet his eyes. When he spoke his voice was shaky.

"There was no case. There was no evidence. I made it all up. It was simply a ruse to get you into my arms. I didn't actually think you cared, I thought, I just...I've mucked it all up." he admitted.

"You idiot." John said with a chuckle.

Sherlock turned to find him smiling fondly up at him.

"Not helping, John." he replied with a sour look.

"You're a bloody romantic, that's what you are. Christ. Got me to dance with you and everything." John added.

"Yes, well-" Sherlock began.

"Shut up and kiss me!" John demanded with a smirk.

Sherlock, ever the romantic, obeyed.


	4. Straight, Or Thereabouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My final chapter, and the end on John's journey through self discovery, at least sexually.

John never really thought of himself as bisexual. I mean, he was, yeah, but it wasn't like he was bisexual A LOT. He figured there had to be a term for it, for what he was. Something like 'straight with a few exceptions'. It was something difficult to define, his sexuality, so it came as quite the surprise when Sherlock defined it for him.

_____

John was a little drunk. Okay, more than a little. He felt the alcohol dripping down his throat like honey, slow and soothing. In reality he'd done more than enough shots for a man his size. Sherlock was standing near him and frowning at a man perched to his left, an interloper. The man was new to the squad, came over from New York a month prior and hadn't yet learned to cool his heels around Sherlock and his...companion. 

It was Greg's birthday party and they were all a bit sloshed. Come to think of it, the only one not was Sherlock. This wasn't too out of the ordinary with him, he hated being drunk, dulled his senses. He was still, therefore, sharp as a tack.

"I think I need anotherrrr." John slurred, throwing his right arm out to grab something to pull himself from his seat.

Sherlock took his hand and placed it back on the table, something that made John look at it as if it were possessed. When he finally shook it off he looked up at Sherlock.

"Sherrrrlock," he hiccuped, "another."

"No, John, I think you've had quite enough, perhaps we should-" Sherlock began.

"Cor, you're gorgeous." John sighed with a smile.

Sherlock didn't look around the room to see if anyone was perturbed as all of the men and women from the Met knew they were a couple even if they didn't sit in each other's laps like teenagers. That was why he was so shocked when the man next to John snorted and set his glass down with such force that some of the warm lager sloshed over the edge, dampening the already wet table.

"No." John said, putting up an unsteady hand. "You're not gorgeous. No, you're UNREAL. God, the way the light changes your eyes. Oh, Sherrrrlock. My pretty boy."

Sherlock felt himself blushing and rested a hand lightly on John's shoulder. 

"We really should-" Sherlock tried again.

"Didn't know you were a fucking faggot!" the new recruit from NYPD growled at John.

John turned slowly and was about to give the prick a Glasgow kiss when Sherlock stepped between their stools.

"He's not a faggot. He's bisexual. If you're going to be a homophobic arsehole at least do it right." Sherlock hissed, helping John from his seat and stomping with him out the front door.

The ride home consisted of John dozing off against Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock texting Lestrade to say that if anyone from the Met EVER insulted John again not only would his superiors hear about it but he'd lose both their help. For good.

They made it up the stairs before John even really woke up, a sign of Sherlock's surprising upper body strength and John's ability to literally be asleep on his feet. Sherlock brought the shorter man to the bedroom and started unbuttoning his shirt for him. John chose that moment to wake up. Well, slightly.

"I'm not." he murmured, "Not really."

Sherlock sighed and kissed his forehead before going back to undressing him.

"Not what, John?" he asked indulgently.

"Not bisexual. Well, not really." John replied.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the man who'd successfully downed his entire cock with enthusiasm more times than even he could count.

"And why not?" he asked.

John rolled his shoulders as his shirt was removed and then shrugged. "I'm not attracted to men. Well, not men as a group. Only a few."

Sherlock swallowed slowly, not sure why he was suddenly feeling jealous after they'd been together happily for several years.

"How many?" he asked.

John held out his hand and squinted at it as he counted off in his head.

"Five. Five's not enough. I'm not bisexual enough. Harry said so." John replied at last with an even bigger shrug followed by a sigh.

Sherlock carefully added that to the list of reasons why he would never spend the holidays with Harry Watson and started on his own shirt.

"There's no perfect number, John. Sexuality as we know it is mostly a social construct. It's a spectrum in truth." Sherlock said. "You don't even have to act on it to be bisexual."

John looked up at him and grinned like he'd been told he was a real boy before laying back on the bed and wiggling his feet at Sherlock in a sign to remove his shoes.

"Five's 'nough?" he asked with a genuinely delighted huff.

"Mmm. Five. Seventy five. None." Sherlock said as he unlaced John's shoes and slipped his feet free.

"I'm not a weirdo." John said with a laugh.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far." Sherlock teased as he pulled John's denims down.

John snorted and glance up. "Come 'ere, you git!"

Sherlock slipped out of his trousers and climbed atop John to kiss him slowly. They never spoke of it again. It took two more years for someone to bring it up once more, John's sexuality, and John wasn't hesitant that time to set them straight, erm, right.


End file.
